


All I Want For Christmas

by Shaish



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, F/F, F/M, Gen, Holidays, M/M, Multi, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 07:30:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17157836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaish/pseuds/Shaish
Summary: Wanted to dosomethingfor the holidays so here we go. Happy Holidays~





	All I Want For Christmas

Laughter fills the Queen mansion, every hall that branches out from the wide living room, tinkling champagne glasses reflecting the Christmas lights strung throughout the space: white gold on the tree, the garlands decorating the fireplace and every doorway, making the room as warm as the crackling fire, laughter, shared smiles, and conversation.

Oliver feels it too where he’s standing by the tree, champagne from the glass in his hand warm and bubbly in his gut, his chest. There’s easy music playing, Frank Sinatra’s soothing voice crooning about Christmas. Thea throws her head back and laughs at something Tommy says, Roy and Laurel chuckling while Diggle smiles over by the doorway, Felicity lingering at his side. Oliver, his mother, Thea, and Walter already did their own private Christmas this morning, first thing, sent every worker home two days ago and made their own breakfast, if not their beds. But Diggle, Laurel, Tommy, and Felicity, they’re all family too.

Thea laughs again and returns Tommy’s joke with one of her own, Tommy raising a hand in defense while he laughs and Oliver finds his lips curling up, gaze shifting to his mother leaning her shoulder into Walter’s side where they’re lounging on one of the couches, Thea and Roy on the other end, Laurel and Tommy on the couch opposite. There’s still some wrapping littering the floor by the coffee table, peeled off bows in a tilting tower on the table top, but there’s a set of new car keys there too, a few boxes of new, folded up clothes on the floor, and a homemade photo album on the table. Speaking of-

“Alright, it’s time,” Moira announces as she pushes herself up. Diggle pulls the camera out of his pocket as he and Felicity come over and everyone gathers in front of the large tree, shoving some of the crinkling wrappers aside with Christmas decorated, socked feet.

“What time is Sara getting in again?” Tommy asks, looking to Laurel as he puts an arm around her shoulders and one around Oliver’s, who ducks his head a little with a smile, Thea wiggling in next to him and dragging Roy along with her.

“In about an hour, if they haven’t arrived already,” Laurel answers, pulling her phone out to check quickly, “Dad and mom’ll call when her and Nyssa show up.”

“Everyone ready?” Diggle asks where he’s finishing setting up the tripod, looking back over his shoulder as he finishes setting the timer.

“We’ll have to take another when Lyla gets here,” Oliver reminds him.

“Oh, don’t worry, she said she’ll be over as soon as Waller’s done with her briefing,” Diggle replies as he squishes in next to Felicity.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if her, Sara, and Nyssa all showed up at the same time?” Felicity jokes.

“Three dangerous women in one room,” Tommy muses, grunting a soft, ” _Ow_ ,” when Laurel jabs an elbow into his ribs. “Four.”

“Better make it six, if you want to see New Years,” Thea adds with a small smirk.

“Alright, alright,” Tommy concedes, raising his hands briefly from Laurel and Oliver’s shoulders, “Six. Well, eight, if you count that friend of Oliver's and her twin.”

“Everyone say ‘Holidays’,” Walter announces.

” _Holidays!_ ”

\--

Oliver takes another sip of his champagne, feeling- not drunk, but a warm buzz, everything just a bit fuzzy around the edges in a good way, making the Christmas lights into blurry stars out of the corners of his eyes. He feels and hears someone come up next to him and huff out a breath.

“Looks like we might get snow after all,” Thea comments as she looks up out the window he's parked in front of, taking a sip from her own glass.

“Might,” Oliver replies. He feels Thea’s gaze on the side of his face and looks down over to find her smiling.

“So, get everything you want for Christmas?” she asks, “I’m sure the booze and new motorcycle was a nice surprise.”

“Your picks?” Oliver teases a little in return.

Thea hums noncommittally, but her lips curl up a little more as she looks back out the window. “I might have given mom and Walter a few suggestions. It _is_ hard to get someone something when they have everything.” Oliver smiles a little and Thea looks back to him, smile turning into a small, knowing smirk. “Well, _almost_ everything.” Oliver pauses, a thought cutting through his warm buzz. He rolls his shoulders back and her smile softens as she reaches up and gives his bicep a gentle squeeze. “Who knows,” she adds, turning to head over and join the others where they’re gathering at the tv, “There’s still time for a Christmas miracle.”

Oliver turns to watch her go for a beat before shaking his head a little and turning his gaze back to the window. He glances up at the thick clouds outside, visible in the night, then down at his champagne flute, tilting his head back to finish it before heading over to the tv, too.

\--

Oliver lifts his head from his arm stretched across the back of the couch to check on Thea and the others. His mother’s eyelids are lowered but her gaze is still fixed on _It’s a Wonderful Life_ , Walter’s arm around her shoulders at the far end of the couch. Roy’s asleep with his head dropped back and Thea curled into his side, just as asleep as he is. Tommy hasn’t fared much better, though Laurel is still watching, glancing over occasionally when Nyssa whispers a question about the movie to Sara, who whispers answers back. Diggle and Lyla are relaxed together with Felicity on Diggle’s other side. Oliver still doesn’t quite get how that works, but as long as they’re happy. He turns his wrist to check his watch peeking out beneath his sweater sleeve, eyes taking a moment to adjust before he can read the time:

_11:50 pm_

He rubs at the corners of his eyes before carefully, quietly pushing himself up. A few gazes glance his way but he just gives them a smile and a short wave off when it looks like Diggle is going to get up and follow, quietly leaving the living room and stopping at the closet near the front double doors to pull his peacoat and shoes on and slip outside. He takes in a breath of the cold and can practically taste winter on the air, looking up as he heads down the steps and rounds the house towards the back garden.

Oliver slips his hands in his pockets as he walks, listens to the frosted grass crunch quietly beneath his shoes and watches his breath fog the air. The flowers are all gone and the bushes and trees are bare, but it’s still nice, being out here alone. It’s quiet, the kind of quiet that only comes with winter, a silence that covers the world like a blanket, muffling all of the cars and noise and shouts, especially this far away from the city.

He slows to a stop in the middle of the garden and puffs out another breath, watching the steam drift up and up until it disappears into the air. After a minute, something white slowly drifts down and he pauses, pulling a hand out of his pocket and holding it up. Cold-wet lands on his palm, so light he can barely feel it, and then more drift down just like it, slowly spiralling down from the clouds glowing enough to see by, muted light in the dark.

He feels the hair stand on the back of his neck before he hears it: quiet steps on grass, and turns, stilling when he finds-

He’s a black shape in the night, even with the soft glow from the clouds up ahead, head angled down a little and hands in his coat pockets, but eyes on him, one dark and one smokey, kind of like the snow clouds. It’s easier to see him when the flakes drift down, make the dark of him stand out better against the forest beyond.

Slade slows to a stop five feet away and lifts his head, tilting it to the side. They just stand there and watch each other for a long moment, breaths fogging the air.

“I thought you would be spending this time with Joe?” Oliver asks, quiet, not- _unhappy_ that Slade is here, but confused. Oliver takes him in, his short, spiky black hair, the five o’clock shadow on his square jaw, the black shirt and black coat and pants and boots, black from head to toe like he’s still on mission.

“Australian Christmas is earlier,” Slade answers, just as quiet, like he too doesn’t want to wake the world around them.

“No job you're on?” Oliver asks next, and Slade raises a brow.

“You want me to go?” he returns.

“No,” Oliver answers, thinking for a beat, “I’m just surprised you’re here.” _We haven’t talked in over a month_ , he doesn’t say, fingers curling in his pocket where they’re still buried.

“Client wanted me to work until New Years,” Slade finally says, some kind of tension in him fleeing up into the atmosphere with their breaths, “I convinced him to give me some time off.”

Oliver raises his own brow at that, because convincing an employer as a freelancer to ‘give him time off’ probably means something...more. Oliver lets that thought go though, choosing to focus on Slade as he pulls his other hand out of his pocket. “Everyone’s inside,” Oliver comments, keeping his voice down.

“Figured as much,” Slade replies, doing the same, tilting his head back briefly towards the way he came, “Saw the cars.”

“Didn’t hear yours,” Oliver says.

“Wanted to surprise you,” Slade replies, shrugging a shoulder, “Surprise.”

Oliver huffs a breath at that and Slade’s lips twitch, Oliver’s finally twitching up, too. He takes the first step forward, closing the distance between them until there’s only a few inches left, practically nose to nose, close enough to feel the warmth of Slade’s breath against his face and see the dark brown in his eye. Oliver doesn’t say it, but something’s been missing all night, the past two days, the past month since Slade left for his job. It’s still missing, some gap in his chest, like he swallowed a pill wrong and it got lodged low in his throat, immovable no matter how many times he swallowed. He moves first again, but this time Slade does too, Oliver’s hand going for the front of Slade’s coat while Slade’s hand goes for his jaw, warm and dry and calloused and so _good_. And then they’re moving together, eyelids falling shut as their mouths meet in the middle, a shot of whiskey in the cold winter night, the kiss warming him through in a way the champagne hadn’t. 

The kiss goes on for a minute, settles his bones like they haven’t been no matter how much he’s worked out or how many bad guys he’s stopped, and Oliver slowly lets out a breath between them when their lips finally part, slick and warm, and that gap in his chest feels filled as the snow starts littering their hair, their shoulders, the ground.

“Merry Christmas, kid,” Slade rumbles between them. 

Oliver means to return it, but what comes out instead is:

“Welcome home.”

The world didn’t stop when Slade went away, and it didn’t stop for that kiss either, but now...now it feels better, warmer, more whole, and Oliver gently tugs Slade into another kiss. He goes easy, this unstoppable force, only stopping for him when their worlds meet, not so much a collision anymore, but a port in all the storms they’ve been through, and hopefully every one yet to come. Oliver’s not a kid anymore and he doesn’t believe in Santa, but...even if pressed he wouldn’t admit it, it kind of feels like there’s magic in the air.

_The End_


End file.
